


All Tied Up

by Entropyrose



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ribbons, Verbal Humiliation, ball gag usage, kitty bell, mentioned/threatened mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: A Birthday fic for RedPredator!Rumlow is certain everyone at Shield forgot his birthday. That is, until he takes a peek into his office and sees a pretty present, all wrapped up for him and lying on his desk.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hiemallily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiemallily/gifts).



> Complete and utter non-con. You have been warned.

Okay, so Rumlow is a little vain. He doesn’t want people knowing his age (it’s a good thing Shield keeps his year-of-birth, among other things, pretty well classified). But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t expect *something* on his birthday, dammit. He pulls the brunt of the weight around here and he’d like a little recognition for it.

 

He stalks to his office after bumping shoulders with yet *another* fellow Strike member who just mutters a dull “good morning” and continues on her way.

 

“Well, fuck you too then,” he grumbles under his breath.

 

He rounds the hall to the coffee bar and fills his canteen with the blackest, most bitter shit he can make. The white box on the table is littered with crumbs on the inside, not one single donut remaining. _Fucking figures._

Rumlow makes due with the lone day-old bran muffin that stares at him mournfully from the grease-soaked container before heading towards his office. He doesn’t have time for celebration or small-talk today, anyway. He has a mountain of paperwork to chip away at and a stack of reports as thick as his arm to sign.  He reaches the heavy steel door, sliding the back of his hand over the chip-reader. It blinks green and hisses open into the pitch-blackness of the room.

 

He turns on the hanging lamps with a flick of his wrist and yellow light bleeds down the walls. The figure secured to his desk startles and turns his face away. He is bound, a hand to each foot, bent backwards over the solid metal frame. Instinctively, the figure wriggles his wrists against the electromagnets that have him pinned down, his metal hand chiming against the restraint.

 

A wide smile tightens the edges of Rumlow’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned.” One step inward allows the door to side closed as wild green eyes stare him down. “They didn’t forget.”

 

Rumlow closes the distance between himself and his gift, lifting the tag that is secured with a red ribbon around the gift’s limp member. A ribbon of the same color is tied around his throat, secured with a pretty, plump bow and decorated with a bell that jingles to his slightest movement.

 

He shifts away uncomfortably, bending a knee to partially hide himself. Rumlow ignores him, however, turning the card over in his gloved hand. “Happy Birthday, enjoy,” Rumlow reads. “Love Pierce.” He chuckles to himself, freely scaling the soft thighs of his present to round one sharp hip and glide smoothly to his ebbing belly. A maraschino cherry peeks out from his navel and Rumlow plucks it out, crushing it under his teeth as he admires the view.

 

Winter switches between glaring at him with those untamed emerald eyes and tossing his head to the side. He’s got to be in pain—god only knows how long they’ve kept him like this and no matter how he squirms against the hard desk, it’s pretty clear he’s not going anywhere. Unless, that is, Rumlow wants him to. His fingers work themselves into tight fists as he tosses his head, throwing red curls and the scent of fruity shampoo into the air. His groans are muffled more than usual under his heavy black half-mask.

 

“Sssh, hush sweet-pea.” Rumlow unhinges the muzzle, allowing it to fall away and revealing those fine pink lips opened around a clear blue ball-gag. Rumlow’s eyebrows quirk and he lets out an approving hiss. “Damn. Look at _you_ , all dolled up.” He slides a finger around the ball, slicked with Winter’s saliva as he throws his head angrily this time, snapping it back and forth, eyes wide and threatening, burning into Rumlow’s. Rumlow throws his hands up in surrender. “Hey, wasn’t my idea. Blame Pierce. Gotta admit, though. You do look good enough to eat.”

 

Winter’s fists assault the electromagnets, firing against them with a rapid CLANG, his chest heaving.

 

“Easy, easy. Don’t hurt yourself.” Rumlow sweeps his hair away from his face, gathering his chin in one hand, looking him over. His face curves up into a secret smirk as he adds, “That’s my job.”

 

The jab has the expected result—Winter’s hips riveting against the steel table, the bell at his throat rattling wildly as he thrashes against his restraints. The ring around his metal wrist crackles as it threatens to disconnect, and Rumlow shuts that shit down with a tug on the red bow between his legs. The ribbon goes taught and Winter lets out a muted whimper, stilling his hips as his belly shivers.

 

“That’s what I thought. Not so tough with a string around your junk, now are you? Now here’s the deal. I’m gonna take the gag out. You so much as _squeal,_ it goes up your ass.” Rumlow’s dark eyes burn into Winter’s. “Nod if you understand me.”

 

Winter huffs, his shoulders slumping back against the frigid steel. His eyes flutter and Rumlow waits patiently. He’s weighing his options. Within the new few moments, Winter dissolves and gives in with an obedient nod.

 

“Good boy.” Rumlow flicks the belt of the gag and pulls on the loop. Creamy white liquid tumbles out of Winter’s mouth and he turns his head to the side, pressing his cheek to the desk as he coughs. The fluid sprays down his neck and the side of his face and Rumlow lets out a surprised chuckle. “Pierce, you piece of shit.” Rumlow reaches for the box of Kleenex that has been moved to the stacked on the floor with the rest of the paperwork. He swipes at the fluid until Winter’s skin is dried. “You always have to get that first piece of cake.”

 

Rumlow wonders if Winter remembers last year’s Birthday. It was a big surprise party—everyone waiting in the darkness with party hats and champagne glasses. They tazed his ass before throwing on the light. A smart move when trying to pull a fast one over on an armed Strike Operative. They played pin the tail on the donkey—only Winter was the donkey and a two-foot-long dildo was the proverbial tail. He hadn’t made a sound through the whole thing. Now, here Winter was—different song, same dance—fighting with everything he had in him just trying to fend off one guy.

 

“Didn’t wipe you this time, did they?” The last mission was three weeks ago and if they hadn’t put him on ice in that amount of time, it was an absolute certainty that some of his memories were starting to come back and he was starting to fight the programming. Pierce was a real asshole like that—they hadn’t been able to completely mold the asset, in all the years of the Project, and Pierce loved to make good use of that fighting spirit. A wicked thought alights in Rumlow’s mind and his eyes glitter with curiousity. “You remember…him?”

 

“ _Fuck_ _you!”_ The asset hurls a cum-filled wad of spit right at Rumlow’s face and it earns him the back of Rumlow’s hand to his face. The force reels him to the steel frame beneath him, splitting his lip and spattering little red droplets onto the reflective surface.

 

“What did I say, Winter? _Huh?_ ” Rumlow doesn’t bother lying to himself about his own unhealthy habits—the things he likes doing to his little brunet toy, the pain he inflicts on him, the wounds he opens up on him just to heal them closed. He jams two rigid fingers between Winter’s legs, forcing them into his puckered hole, which is as clean and pink as new—as if he’s never been touched. Winter’s hips buck upwards, his ass flying off the desk, the bell at his throat jingling wildly like a kitten caught in barbed wire. His chest heaves and he bites down a pained cry, remembering Rumlow’s promise to feed him his own ball-gag. His hole spasms around the gloved digits, warm and shuddering and Rumlow presses in further, burying his third knuckles.

 

Winter’s dick bobs, shamelessly engorging itself on the sheer sensation of Rumlow’s fingers.

 

Rumlow laughs. “Look at you, huh? You like that?” He strikes the tips of his fingers into the spongy muscle, earning him a dry sob caught way down in Winter’s throat. “Now, you gonna answer the question?”

 

Winter turns his head away, a glow of pink on his cheeks, all the light going out from his eyes.

 

Well, that’s no fun. Rumlow adds a third finger, pressing into the stretched ring of muscle, going in dry. “Come on, asset. Don’t give up on me yet, huh? We’re just getting started. Why don’t you tell me about him, yeah? Your big blond _boyfriend_.”

 

The table groans under the immense strain of a muscular body trying its damndest to rend it in two, the floor beneath shuddering and the stacks of paper skittering down like a landslide.

 

“ _Therrre’s a good boy,”_ Rumlow purrs, his face mere inches from the Asset’s. “Pierce wants us to play together. Who knows, maybe even a cock-whore like you could learn to be sated by us. Then you wouldn’t need your precious Captain at all. If he’d even want you. If only he knew about the buckets of come you’ve put in that nice, round belly of yours…” Rumlow’s fingers skirt through the dusting of hair below his navel, pressing a palm to the flat surface. “You remember that, Winter? The office party where we pumped you so full of jizz that you looked like you were going to have our babies? Shit, _that_ was a mess to clean up when it all came out, wasn’t it!”

 

“Fuck _you!”_ It’s all he can seem to manage to say, a hot tear forcing its way out of his eye and escaping down the edge of his face. Rumlow pulls his fingers out, fast and dry, and Winter’s head whips back, his half-hard cock shuddering with the sudden emptiness.

 

“What’d I say?” Rumlow’s voice is below a growl, now, as he wads up the ball gag in one hand, wrapping the thick leather belt around his wrist.

 

“No,” Winter gasps, doing a 180 shuddering and panting and weak as suddenly as he’d fought back. He rocks backwards on the balls of his feet, as if to escape to the far edge of the desk, as if he could get that far. “P—please.”

 

Rumlow drops his hand, chewing on his lip in thought. Alright,” he mumurs.

Winter’s body collapses back to the desk, quivering.

 

Rumlow reaches for the lotion. Winter sucks in gasp as he watches the creamy mixture curl around and run down the sides of the ball, coating it thoroughly. He lets out a dry sob as the ball disappears between his thighs.

 

Rumlow may not last. He adjusts himself with his free hand, giving his throbbing dick much needed room. It’s his birthday—he’s not going to spoil a perfectly tight asshole with a ball the size of his fist. But Winter doesn’t know that—he’s panting and gasping for air, preparing himself for the sudden stretch as the vessels of his muscles are intruded upon and forced to swallow the gigantic ball. A grin pulls at his mouth as he spins the smooth plastic around Winter’s tight little hole, earning him wave after wave of whimpers and pouty-mouthed huffs that he knows are just a rough shove away from turning into a “ _please”._

 

There is nothing prettier in this whole world than Winter begging.

 

Rumlow removes the ball, letting it tumble away and onto the carpeted floor. Winter blinks, his body squirming and his eyes rimmed with red as he lifts his head. “Uh?”

 

Rumlow leans against the desk, his tongue flicking out to wet the cracked edges of his lips as he undoes his belt buckle. “He ever given it to you, Winter?” The belt chimes as it flies apart, slapping against his uniformed hips when he goes for his fly. “Huh? You ever felt his cock inside of you?” He quirks his head upwards to pause in thought. “Nah, I ‘spose not. Not good ol’ Cap, right? He seems like a prude.”

 

He rounds the desk, lining himself up with the bound angel’s spread legs opening themselves wide, a warm, welcoming invitation. He sides a hand up Winter’s leg and he shudders. “Bet you’ve wanted to feel it, though, huh? Bet you’ve wanted to sit on that well-muscled lap of his and ride his cock right up into your throat.” He grabs the keys on his hip and zaps the ring across the electromagnet on either ankle.

 

Winter’s legs collapse into a boneless heap on the surface. Rumlow slides him downward on the desk , his ass flying off the edge and long legs dangling lifelessly. Rumlow bares down, popping the button on his fly and pushing his hips out. His cock flies out freely, hard and swollen and dripping with precome. He runs a couple fingers through his crack, slicking the lotion against his entrance as Winter bucks upward off the desk.

 

Should have re-thought unlocking Winter’s legs. His ankle wraps around behind Rumlow’s neck and flies down to the metal surface, Rumlow’s head connecting hard and splattering blood against the edge. He hears the familiar “crack” of a tooth knocking loose and blocks Winter’s free leg from coming around to his adam’s apple. He grabs hold of both legs and flips him, Winter landing hard onto his stomach, arms crossed above his head.

 

“That was stupid,” Rumlow roars, bringing his hand down across Winter’s backside. The hand-print lights up red on his bared skin as the soldier squirms helplessly. “Yeah, come on.” Rumlow lines himself up with the struggling, tightening hole and bares down, teeth clenched together as he drives up into the immeasurable tightness. “Oh…fuck…” He bites his lip, drawing a line of fresh blood, the bulbous head of his dick splitting past the stubborn hole and getting simultaneously sucked in and forced out at the same time.

 

“Ah--!” Winter cries, stomach muscles clenching, legs drawing up tight underneath of him against the pressure driving up deep inside of him. His cinnamon colored hair spills around his shoulders as Rumlow latches on to either shoulder, driving him backwards into his lap, fully seating his length inside of him.

 

“Ffffuck,” Rumlow starts a slow rhythm, delighting in the soft slap of skin-on-skin and wanting to make this last. “Jesus, fuck, you are so tight, Winter…” His hands go into the mass off wild curls, grabbing a fist-ful and tugging backwards, his forearm landing on the warm skin of his spine. “Good boy. Take me in, sweetheart. Take me all the way in.”

 

Winter sobs, spreading his legs to gain leverage with his knees, only to draw Rumlow’s balls further up into his ass.

 

“You want it, baby-doll?” Rumlow’s hands skirt around to Winter’s middle and then to his chest, digging his thumbnails into each nipple, tugging on firm little buds, forming stiff peaks. “Theeere you go,” he purrs. “Such a good boy. I’m gonna feed you my cock.”

 

Winter lets out a sharp grunt, throwing his weight back into the pressure, his hole fluttering open before clenching down on Rumlow’s root. Rumlow dissolves into a string of slurred expletives, picking up the pace, his cock pushing deep inside the asset, the bulbous head of his dick battering against his prostate.

 

Winter cries out, his front half collapsing, biceps spent and shaking as he helplessly pulls against the restraints. “You want more, princess? You want me to give you a baby?” A growl rumbles from the other man’s throat and he lifts himself up once more to fight against his assailant. Rumlow lets out a breathless laugh and eggs him on, pinching at his diamond-hard nipples and cupping both pectorals in his gloved hands. “You want me to make you a real woman?,” he taunts, his hips jamming mercilessly, thrusting upward with Winter helpless to do anything about it. Rumlow’s precome drools out, coating his entrance with slick as he rubs him raw from the inside out. “Should we make you pregnant? God knows with all the sick fucks in Hydra, we could do it. Then I could milk you _here…”_ He twists both nipples angrily, reveling in the sob that peels from Winter’s throat. The little kitty bell jingles as he throws his head back, his trapped dick leaking and hard with each hit. “And _here.”_  With a hard thrust, his shaft plummets into Winter’s prostate. Rumlow can barely finish the thought as his heart-rate picks up and he climbs his orgasm, spilling into Winter as he convulses, his dick twitching inside him, semen being wrung out of him and filling the asset’s walls.

 

Winter releases, too, with a muted groan, his cock flying freely between his legs with Rumlow’s final, dying thrusts, coating the ribbon that squeezes his cock with his own seed.

 

Rumlow spasms over top of him, eyes glazed and sated, mouth hanging stupidly open, one final string of fluid spurting onto the desk as he pulls out, panting.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rumlow mumurs, too tired now to continue fighting. Winter glares back at him over his shoulder, those deadly green eyes unchanged.

 

Rumlow brings his shirt up over his face to soak up the sweat. “Fuck, Winter. You make the perfect birthday cake.” He sweeps his thumb across a dotting of come that has spattered against the mound of his ass. “And that’s _a lot_ of icing.”


End file.
